The Girl Oliver Saved
by ferret assassin nin
Summary: A famous professional Quidditch player for Puddlemere United, Oliver Wood seems to have a great life. However, he is about to receive a shock as he finds an abused and neglected seven year old girl with torn clothing, bruises, and cuts crying in an alleyway. Who is she? Where are her parents? Who abused her? Can he save her? Most importantly, can he teach her to trust again?
1. His Discovery

**The Girl Oliver Saved**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs solely to J. K. Rowling, David Yates, and Scholastic Publishing Company. I don't make money from any of this; I just enjoy playing with the characters some.**

**Warning: Rated T; mentions and descriptions of child neglect and abuse; implied violence; cursing; you have been warned.**

**Summary: Famous Professional Quidditch player for Puddlemere United, Oliver Wood seems to have a great life; he's involved almost full-time with his passion, he has a fair amount of money, he's sort of famous, and he lives by himself in a shockingly beautiful, two bedroom, roomy flat near Diagon Alley. However, he is about to receive an outright shock as he finds a seven-year-old girl with torn clothing and obvious signs of abuse and neglect crying in an alleyway. Who is she? Where are her parents? Who abused her? Can he save her? Most importantly, can he teach her to trust again?**

**Chapter 1: His Discovery**

It was seven in the evening and Oliver Wood is well on his way to a pub in Diagon Alley for a nice stiff drink after a particularly grueling day of Quidditch practice. Although Bludgers didn't attack him this time around, he still hurts from the last three days of practice where Bludgers pelted him. In fact, Oliver fells as though he isn't so much a Keeper, but a Bludger magnet. All throughout his Quidditch career, even at Hogwarts in his second year when he first started playing Quidditch, Bludgers always ended up pelting him; whether it be his head or his stomach or even his ribs, they would pelt him. He is quite sick of it, really, but other than that, he loves Quidditch and loves being an actual player on Puddlemere United, not just a reserve once the Second Wizarding War finally ended two years ago.

In fact, the Quidditch season is about three weeks away and, in preparation for their first match against the Holyhead Harpies, their captain is pushing his team to the limits. Oliver is finally starting to learn how his old Hogwarts Quidditch team felt when he ran them rugged in preparation for a match. Of course, Oliver loves his job regardless and having someone just as obsessed as him with Quidditch is wonderful; however, there are only so many Bludgers, and hard thrown Quaffles, one body could take before it shut down.

As he walks by a dark alleyway, a girl's cry breaks him out of his obsessive thoughts about Quidditch. Curious, he turns into the alleyway and mutters "Lumos" as he takes his wand out. More quiet sobs reach his ears as he starts walking into the alleyway against his better judgment. The crying gets louder as he walks further into the eerie alleyway and he grips his wand tighter as he starts to break out into a cold sweat. When he gets to the middle of alleyway he sees what looks like a pile of dirty rags stacked tightly against the brick wall and the dumpster. He lowers his wand to the pile of rags and realizes, with shock, that it is actually a very young girl crying quietly. He breathes a sigh of relief as he squats down in front of small girl, taking a good look at her.

She couldn't be any older than four years old, going from her small frame. Dirt cakes her matted blonde hair, several bruises cover her exposed arms, neck, and face, and several small cuts litter face; some are still bleeding and some have already scabbed. The dirty rags she currently wears most likely resembled clean clothes at some point and rips litter them in some places while patches litter them in other places. Dirt and deep bleeding gashes litter her bare feet. Hurt, pain, betrayal, and fear now haunt her dull grey eyes that were probably a brilliant blue color at one point. Clearly, someone abused and neglected this poor girl. Where are her parents? Who is she? Who hurt her?

In a very quiet and gentle voice, Oliver asks, "Where are your parents?" The girl only scrambles away from in fear and curls in tighter on herself as though Oliver plans to hurt her. It breaks his heart to see her act like this. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know," he says in the same gentle voice and curses silently to himself as some of his Scottish accent leaks out. However, his statement that he won't hurt her doesn't seem to comfort the girl at all. Oliver sighs and rubs the back of his neck at a lost as to how he should handle this situation. Finally, he decides that maybe if he takes this girl to his house, feeds her, cleans her, and heals her then she will understand that he only wants to help her.

"Come now, lass," he says and mentally berates himself as actually slipped into his native tongue, "I promise I won't hurt you. I only want to help you." When the girl doesn't respond and only regards him with distrust, he asks kindly, "What is your name?" The girl does not answer his question. Seeing how thin she is, he tries a different tactic. "Why don't we get you cleaned up and something hot to eat, yeah?" At the mention of food, the girl quickly jerks her head up and Oliver gets a better look at the tearstains on her bruised cheeks. The sight burns him with anger at the bloody coward who would dare harm an innocent and defenseless little girl.

He offers his hand out to the girl who continues to regard him wearily. "It's okay, I won't harm you, I swear on my grave," the Scot says in his light Scottish accent. The girl takes several minutes to look Oliver up and down before apparently looking for any signs he is lying. Finally, she timidly accepts his offered hand. Oliver can't help the small smile that graces his features. "Now," he starts gently, "hold tightly an' don't let go; we're going to Apparate to my flat, alright? Just a fair warning; if you haven't Apparated before, this will feel very strange," he finishes quietly and smiles some more as the girl squeezes his hand even tighter; then, he Apparates to his flat.

Once there, the girl stumbles backwards slightly and Oliver rights her before she falls. "It's not much really, but it is home," he states fondly as though she is not a stranger but merely a younger sister or cousin he has known for a very long time. She doesn't give him any sign she heard him, but Oliver smiles anyway. He knows and understands that it may be several months before the girl every actually opens up to him, so his one sided conversation doesn't really bother him. After all, Merlin only knows what happened to her before he found her.

He sits the girl down on his plushy couch in the living room and tells her to wait right there for him to come back. He walks into the kitchen and begins to look through his pantry, cabinets, and then fridge to see what all he has for her to eat that doesn't require a vast amount of cooking or skill to make. The only thing he could find is a still full and fresh half gallon of milk, some peanut butter, white bread, and grape jelly; he will have to go out shopping for more food some time.

He walks back into the living room, squats in front of the girl, and asks, "You're not allergic to peanuts, are ya lass?" The girl shakes her head silently and Oliver smiles at her small response, "Good. Let's get your face and hands washed and then you can eat, yeah?" The girl wordlessly follows him down a narrow hallway just off his living room and into a sparsely but well decorated bathroom. Perhaps she is starting to trust him.

He helps her climb up on a small stool, so that she can reach the sink, and turns the hot and cold faucets on. The girl automatically puts her hands under the warm water and Oliver hands her some soap. She washes her hands five times before all the dirt and grime finally vanish. Then, Oliver wets a washcloth hanging from a towel rack and gently cleans her face off, making sure not to agitate the wounds on her face. It only takes two washes this time before her face is completely clean. Oliver tosses the soiled washcloth into the hamper before he looks at her face again. With the tearstains, dirt, grime, and blood smudges gone, he is now able to better assess the damage done to her face. It doesn't look nearly as bad as it did in the alleyway but the wounds still needed to be treated.

He reaches into his medicine cabinet above the sink and pulls out his medi-kit. He opens the white and red box and takes out some antiseptic and gauze. He unscrews the lid from the bottle of antiseptic, dabs some on the piece of gauze he has, and warns the girl, "Now, this may twinge a bit but the pain will be in gone in less than wee minute," before he proceeds to clean the opened cuts. The girl winces slightly but that is the only reaction he gets, which surprises him. He remembered how badly the antiseptic stung when his mother would treat his scrapes and cuts; he couldn't stop crying but the pain did go away eventually. Perhaps this girl is simply used to pain or perhaps she is simply numb; Oliver decides he doesn't like either of those conclusions.

Once he finishes disinfecting her wounds, Oliver pulls out his wand and mutters, "_Vulnera Sanetur_," every time he seals another cut. Then, he points at some of dried blood surrounding her cuts with his wand and mutters, "_Tergeo_," and her face is suddenly much cleaner. Next, he pulls down the lid to the toilet and sits the girl on top of it before he repeats the same process with her feet; clean, disinfect, close the wounds, and remove the dried blood. Just in case the wounds decide to reopen, he pulls out two bandages, wraps up both of her feet and then sits back on his heels to examine his healing work. Satisfied, he nods to himself and puts everything away.

When the two make their way back to the living room, and Oliver sits her back on the couch, he says, "Okay, I will be back in a wee bit; you stay there, alright lass?" The girl silently nods and he walks back into the kitchen. He sets about making about five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pours some milk in a glass. True to his word, he comes back and offers her the plate of sandwiches. The girl grabs one and then proceeds to eat them hungrily. She finishes all but one sandwich before she gulps down the milk. As he watches her, Oliver wonders when was the last time she had anything to eat.

He would have made soup for her, but he was out; besides, his cooking skills aren't exactly that good. Now, Oliver can cook as his mother taught him over the summer, Easter, and Christmas holidays, but just enough to keep him from starving. So, normally he makes soup, sandwiches, noodles, cereal, and oatmeal. The last time he attempted to actually cook or bake something he nearly burnt his kitchen down.

When the girl is done, Oliver picks up the plate and places it in the sink so that he can wash it later. Next, he leads the girl into his messy bedroom and digs around in his closet until he finds the smallest clothes he can; his old Christmas sweater his mum made when he was in his third year of Hogwarts and a pair of navy blue drawstring sweatpants. He folds them neatly in his hands and leads the girl back into the bathroom. He turns on the faucets in the tub and tests the temperature of the water before he lets the girl test the temperature. She wordlessly nods her head to indicate that it is the right temperature and Oliver grabs a tub stopper and allows the tub to fill up. After this, he unwraps the dressings around her feet and helps her into the tub. She proceeds to wash herself while he turns his back to give her some privacy without actually leaving her unattended. He ends up having to drain and refill the tub several times before the girl is completely clean. As he goes to help her with her hair, he glances at all the bruises that litter her small body, and mentally curses the person who hurt this child.

After two hours, the girl dresses in the clothes he gave her and Oliver rewraps her feet. If a person looks past the bruises and her sunken in features, they would see a beautiful little girl with blonde hair, light blue eyes, and pale skin. Oliver wishes he could do something about the ugly bruises that mar her otherwise perfect features. However, bruises have to heal on their own as not even magic can get rid of them. He hands her an unused toothbrush and gently instructs her to brush her teeth. When she finishes, he shows her to the guest bedroom and helps her into bed. Before he leaves, he asks the girl, "Y'know, I never did get a name; what is your name, lass?" The girl is silent for a very long time before she answers in barely a whisper, "Angie, short for Angelina." Oliver nods at this and smiles gently at her.

"It's nice to meet you, Angie. I'm Oliver," the girl looks at him curiously. He goes to walk away but Angie catches the sleeve of his Puddlemere United sweater. He looks at her curiously.

"Stay," is all she manages to get out before she goes back to being quiet again. Oliver wordlessly nods.

"Okay, I'll stay." He conjures a small cot beside her bed, goes to his room to bring a pillow and a blanket, and turns off the light. "Good night, Angie." To his surprise, Angie answers him.

"Goodnight, Oliver." Oliver smiles at this and believes that he has made some progress with her. As he waits for her breathing even out, he makes a quick list of what all he will have to do tomorrow. Fortunately, he has the next three days off from practice to recover; he plans to spend those days getting groceries for the two of them, clothes for Angie, shampoo and conditioner for Angie, getting to know Angie better, and becoming her legal guardian. Hopefully tonight will be the start of a trusting relationship between them.

* * *

**A/N: So, it's a bit short than what I usually write but hopefully I'll be able to write out longer chapters. What do you think of my third Harry Potter story? I've been on an Oliver Wood binge recently and this idea just sort of popped into my head at four in the morning two days ago. I hope that this will satisfy you guys until I can get started and finish the next chapter to A Godfather's Instinct. Phew! I have a lot of work to do, don't I? Eh, it won't be a problem. **

**Oh, I've also been trying to learn the Scots language and accent because I have Scottish hereitage and the actor who plays Oliver Wood is Scottish or Irish? I can't remember which now. :P Anyway! Excuse me if my Scottish is awful on that note, okay? As always, constructive criticism is helpful, reviews are appreciated, and flames just discourage. Keep that in mind. :D**

**Happy Reading, **

**ferret nin**


	2. One Step Forward, Five Steps Back

**The Girl Oliver Saved**

**Disclaimer: Clearly I don't Harry Potter as there are many things I would change; such as turning Umbridge into a toad during Dumbledore's Start-of-Term feast in Order of the Pheonix, and keeping Fred, Remus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye alive.**

**Warning: Mentions of child abuse/neglect, violence, and cursing. The first part of this chapter is a dream. You have been warned.**

**A/N: Thank you to those that have reviewed, favorited, followed, and/or alerted my story! All of you make it worth writing. :D**

**Chapter 2: One Step Forward, Five Steps Back**

_The house was very dark, dirty, and messy; scattered bits of parchment and broken quills littered the scratched dark hardwood floors of the living room. A fireplace stood in front the white couch in the living room. The house had a draft and lacked electricity as the owners refused to spend money on paying bills. The water bill is perhaps the only bill that the owners pay every month as the rest of it goes into Fire Whiskey or Gringotts. A little girl, who just turned seven, ambles up the splintering stairs and runs her left hand across what used to be beautiful, white walls. Now, however, the white paint is chipping and peeling. As she reaches the top, her worn out teddy bear hanging limply from her right hand, she turns left and pushes a large door that squeaks on its hinges. _

_The room is decorated in faded greens and blues, with a large four-poster bed pressed against the furthest wall from the small window. The only light in this room comes from the window that's covered in grime. To any other person, this room and entire house would feel creepy and eerie, but to this girl, this is her home of six years. _

_Her mother died in childbirth and her father turned bitter and resentful towards their newborn daughter. Grudgingly, he took care of her so that his deceased wife did not die in vain. However, once his daughter turned four, he stopped caring for her and instead spent his nights and most of his days drinking. He took his bitterness and resentment out on his daughter through verbal, emotional, and physical abuse. The girl did not care, just as long as her father at least paid attention to her. Since her father spent most of his time away from home, the girl would wander aimlessly about the house or walk the streets. Then, before he got home late, she would return, either to her room or home in the hopes that he would not get angry and hit her. _

_She climbs onto the bed and hugs her teddy bear close to her for comfort. Perhaps if she stays in her room and keeps quiet, her father will forget she exists and pass out on the couch downstairs instead of hitting her or screaming at her for something she did not do. _

_The last time she wandered aimlessly about the house she stumbled upon the only well-kept room in the house that had a thick layer of dust on everything in the room. She ventured into the room and, upon seeing various pictures of a strange woman that looked eerily like her, she started to cry. Her father came home drunk and overheard her crying. He walked in to see what the commotion was about and he became angrier than Angie ever saw him. He screamed at her that she had no respect for privacy, that she killed her mother, and that he hates her and wants nothing to with a snooping mother-killing daughter. Then, as if his words didn't hurt the young girl's feelings enough, he started to hit her and spit on her and pull her hair and that night she was not sure whether she was going to make it out alive or not. Eventually, he got bored and stumbled over to the couch where he promptly passed out. The little girl quickly ran for her room, wrenched open her closet, climbed the latter into the attic, and hid until the next day where she was certain her father had left. It was a nightmare, and she never went back into that room again. _

_In the present, the door to house slams open and Angie hears heavy and drunken footsteps climb the old staircase. Her breathing starts to pick up as she hears the footsteps get closer and closer to her room. She quickly scrambles into her closet and hides in the furthest corner from the closet door. Sure enough, a drunken monster in the form of her father stalks angrily through her room and breaks anything that he can get his hands on. Then, he starts bellowing, "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU AWFUL UGLY LITTLE MONSTER!? WHERE ARE YOU!" The girl whimpers quietly in fear and fat silent tears quickly fall from her eyes. She prays to whatever being out there that her father will not find her; or, that he will pass out. However, as he wrenches open the closet door, she knows that it's nothing more than a hopeful wish._

_Cold, deep blue eyes stare down at her. A sly and hateful smile crosses the monster's square set face and chiseled features. She cowers in fear knowing what will happen. _

"_There you are, sweetheart," the monster that she has come to know as 'dad' says in a sickly sweet voice. "Come now, daddy won't hurt you; he promises." The girl starts to shake in fear as her father's eyes are not only cold and full of hate, but also narrowed into slits. She can smell the Fire Whiskey hot on his breath and it makes her nearly vomit. "Oh, what's wrong sweetheart, don't you love me?" He just smiles cruelly at her and the girl remains silent. Then, his anger comes back. "Fine, have it your way." His words are all the warning she gets before he grabs her by her hair and tosses her out of the closet. She hits her head against the wooden end table beside her bed. He quickly descends upon her as she desperately looks from him to the wide open door and back to him. He follows her gaze and only laughs cruelly as he takes out his wand and, silently, closes and locks the door. Then, he lifts it above her head and shouts, "CURICIO!" Instantly, the little girl is overcome with extreme pain and misery and body-wracking sobs pour from her mouth along with, "Daddy, I'm sorry! Daddy, please stop! Daddy, please, please make the pain stop! Please Daddy, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please stop hurting me, Daddy, please!" Then her father starts to fade from view and someone is holding her down and saying soothing words into her ear, rubbing her damp forehead, and the dingy room fades out. _

Suddenly, she's awake and still struggling violently against the strong arms that are pinning her to the bed, her eyes darting wildly back and forth not truly seeing anything around her except for a strange and unfamiliar room. The person keeps telling her took at him, but she's afraid she will see only her father's cold and cruel eyes. She slams her eyes shut and lets out a blood-curdling scream loud enough to leave her throat feeling raw and sore. Suddenly, the arms are gone along with the person and Angie takes her chance.

She jumps out of bed, struggles to detangle the covers around her feet and legs, and desperately searches for anywhere safe to hide. Then, she sees a closet and hurries to it, but before she can actually reach it, strong arms wrap bracingly around her and a steady heart beat thumps against her back as the person pushes something up to her mouth. She slams her mouth shut and refuses to let the person pour anything down her throat. However, the person eventually manages to open her mouth and pour the liquid in. Out of reflex, she swallows all of it. Instantly, a sense of serenity and peace envelops her and she looks around her.

She remembers this room as it was the guest room Oliver gave her. Oliver, he's the one that saved her and healed her and fed her…she's safe with him. Her breathing evens out and a deep voice laced with a heavy Scottish accent says, "There, is that better? Are you starting to calm down, now?" She recognizes it instantly as being Oliver's voice. Finally, she lets herself lean against him and Oliver wraps his protective and comforting arms around her small body. Angie knows that she should say something to him, but it seems as though a thick lump in the back of her throat impedes her voice. Fresh tears fall from her eyes and the arms never leave her. For the first time in six years, Angie feels safe.

After a few minutes, Oliver shifts Angie around in his arms so he can look her in the eyes. "Why don't we go back to bed, aye?" Angie looks at him in fear. "Sh, it will be alrigh', lass," Oliver reassures her quietly as he sees the fear flicker in Angie's eyes like flames in a fireplace.

"Y-you will stay…w-with me, r-right," she asks him in a very quiet voice. Oliver smiles kindly.

"'Course I will, lass; c'mon, let's get you back into bed," Oliver says as he easily picks the small girl up and tucks her back into bed. Oliver sits back down on his cot and, as Angie gives him a fearful look, he smiles.

"Oliver," the small girl starts in a sleepy voice and Oliver regards her fondly as though he is her older brother, "Oliver…w-what if I h-have another n-nightmare?" Oliver brushes a few stray strands of hair out of Angie's eyes.

"Then I will be here to wake you up." Angie nods once before she falls asleep, her hand latching desperately to Oliver's sleeve. Oliver just smiles at the small girl as her breathing evens out. Then, remembering why the girl was so fearful and upset, he sighs sadly. If he ever finds the bastard that harmed this sweet angel, he will tear the bastard limb from limb.

It is mid-afternoon by the time Angie wakes back up. She can't remember when she fell back asleep last night and what had caused her to scream and cry at the top of her lungs. However, her throat feels very scratchy and sore and her eyes feel puffy and rough. Angie looks around at the very organized and very spacious room. A rather simple oak wood dresser sits against the wall adjacent to the bed and a similar plain oak desk sits against the wall opposite of the dresser. The top of the desk is very clean and has a small lamp, some clean sheets of parchment, a few quills, and two bottles of ink on its smooth surface. In front of the desk, a simple straight-backed oak chair with a white cushion in the seat of it sits all the way under the desk. Beside the twin-size bed she currently sits on is a very simple but lovely oak end table with another small lamp and a box of tissues on its surface. Angie settles herself against the headboard of the bed and looks out the window sitting above the desk.

In the far distance, she can see a beautiful green valley that appears to stretch on forever. The skies above are a deep blue with white cotton ball clouds floating leisurely across the sky. Angie smiles slightly as she can almost feel the light breeze in the air. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, remembering how she used to run away from home while her father was out drinking and sit on a swing in the nearby rusty and dilapidated park. That dangerous park was the only place she felt safe, ironically enough.

When the smell of spaghetti wafts into Angie's room, the young girl decides to get out of bed and venture into the kitchen. As she swings her legs over the right side of the bed, she notices the empty cot and her bandaged feet. She frowns as she remembers who wrapped her feet and who slept with her. Then, she suddenly remembers the nightmare she had and looks around wildly to make sure that she is indeed in Oliver's guest room and her father is nowhere in sight. When she doesn't see her father and sees that this indeed the guest room, she relaxes and stands up.

She winces slightly as her feet itch and ache slightly, but she still walks out of the room, up the narrow hallway, and into the living room where she sees that Oliver is indeed making spaghetti in the kitchen. Angie climbs up in a chair at the dining room table and swings her legs back and forth as she watches Oliver carefully stir the sauce and check the heat on the stove. When Oliver pulls out a wand, Angie immediately tenses up. Her father used to take out his wand to inflict pain on her with some kind of curse called, "Curicio" or something. Angie watches anxiously as Oliver flicks it over the sauce and spaghetti. Then, she relaxes as he puts the wand into the back pocket of his jeans, checks the stove one more time, and leaves the kitchen. Oliver jumps slightly, obviously not knowing she was there the whole time, but Angie ignores him as she watches in awe at the spaghetti and sauce stir itself.

"Merlin, Angie, you startled me. How long have you been there, lass?" Angie just regards him quietly as he takes a seat in front of her. Oliver waits patiently for Angie's answer. When she doesn't answer him, he shrugs as he says, "Do you like spaghetti and sauce?" Angie nods her head slightly. "Good, it's probably one of the few things I know how to actually make." When he realizes Angie is not even looking at him, he follows her gaze to the stove and smiles slightly. "Self-stirring charm I learned from me mum; it's very convenient when cooking because I can leave the kitchen and sit down for a few minutes while the food cooks itself, basically," he says as if Angie asked him a question. Then, realizing something, he frowns. "Are ye magical, lass?" Angie regards him curiously. "Y'know, have things happened around you that you can't explain when you were really sad, scared, or angry?" Angie nods quietly. Her voice is very quiet and very soft when she speaks.

"A boy cut my ponytail off once and my hair grew back by the end of the day. I also sneezed one time and my teacher's hair suddenly caught fire. The school called my father…he wasn't very happy when he found out…" Angie says timidly and Oliver nods his head in sympathy.

"I already knew I was a wizard as both of me parents were magical but I didn't know at the time I could accidently use magic. So, when a group of boys teased me for me accent, I was really upset and before I knew it, their hair changed to hot pink. It was a mess. My parents just laughed saying that they probably deserved it. I thought they were going to punish me when the school called." Angie nods quietly, wishing that her father, being magical, was more understanding. Just the thought of what he did to her that day, the day she almost ended up in the hospital, sends an involuntary shiver up her spine. Oliver, being the Keeper that he is, didn't miss her shiver.

"Yeh alrigh' there, lass," he asks in concern. Angie nods her head silently, but Oliver doesn't believe her. Before he has the chance to comment, a timer goes off and he retrieves the spaghetti. After they eat, he will take her out to get some new clothes that fit her properly. Then, he will take them both to the nearby grocery store where he plans to let the girl pick out some food she would like, even though he already went out shopping while she was asleep.

In order to avoid the press, Oliver chooses a Muggle clothing store called JC Penny's, just outside of London. Angie looks around the store in awe, never once seeing so many clothes or jewelry or perfumes or designs and colors in one place before. Her father always told her that she should be happy he buys her any clothes at all. To this day, Angie still can't remember where her father found her ill-fitting and sometimes ratty clothing; perhaps they were hand-me-downs from her older cousins? Regardless of where her father used to get her clothes, Angie knows that even if Oliver told her before they left she could get whatever she wanted, she should keep to very cheap clothing. Oliver has already shown too much kindness to her. However, as Angie walks through the different rows of clothing in the Girl's section, she notices that Oliver frowns every time she checks the price tag on something.

"Lass, money's not an issue; I was serious when I told you could get anything you wanted. Here," he says as he takes simple light blue sweater with a bunny rabbit on the front from the rack and hands it to her, "I'm not the greatest with fashion, but I believe this would look great on you." Angie looks at the sweater, already liking it, but frowns and reaches for the price tag. Oliver lightly bats her hand away and takes the sweater back. "Nope, you're not allowed to look at the price; do you like this sweater?" Angie nods her head eagerly. "Well, I'll get it." Angie smiles brightly.

Most of the time spent in the store went more or less the same way; Angie will find something she really likes, notice the price, and attempt to put it back, but Oliver will take it back down and add it to the growing stack of clothes. Finally, after an hour or two of Oliver constantly reassuring Angie that price is not a problem, the seven-year-old girl starts to ignore the price tag and just get whatever styles she liked. Before long, Oliver leads an excited Angie to the dressing room area and Angie looks at him curiously.

"Well, it would be no use getting clothes that don' fit yeh properly, aye," he offers her happily, as he turns his attention to the woman behind the white counter. The woman has light blue eyes, a friendly smile, tan skin, and wavy blonde hair.

"'Lo there, what can I help you with," she asks Oliver and kindly smiles at the little girl currently hiding behind his legs.

"She'd like to try these on, please," Oliver says pleasantly and the woman beams.

"You have a very cute little girl there, sir. Is she your daughter?" Oliver chuckles slightly in reply.

"Ah, no, I'm her guardian," he answers good-naturedly expertly masking his slight discomfort at her question.

"Oh, well she's very cute."

"Thank you," Oliver says sincerely before the woman leads Angie to one of the dressing rooms behind the counter.

"First room right here, if you don't mind," she tells Angie as she holds open the door to the first dressing room for Angie. Scared, Angie looks back at Oliver who smiles kindly at her.

"Don' worry, lass, I'll be righ' here when yeh finish." Angie nods her head timidly before walking into the room where the woman hands her the clothes.

Angie closes the door behind her and tries on the first pair of nice jeans she found. They fit her perfectly. She takes off the jeans before trying on a pair of camouflage cargo pants; they also fit her perfectly. She continues trying on the clothes finding out that the three pairs of jeans, one pair of baggy cargo pants, three sweaters, the light blue one from earlier, a plain grey one, and a white one with a classic smiley face on the front of it, and two graphic t-shirts all fit her. Next, she tries on the athletic gear Oliver personally picked out for her; a mesh light blue and white lined jacket, matching mesh sweatpants that fall past her feet slightly, and a cute plain white t-shirt. Unsurprisingly, they fit and soon Angie changes back into her original clothes—a black t-shirt, slightly worn jeans, and white tennis shoes—that Oliver gave her that morning; the clothes belonged to Oliver so they practically swallowed Angie but he waved his wand and they shrunk until they loosely hugged her body. She walks out of the fitting room and the woman quickly helps her carry the clothes back to the counter.

"So," Oliver starts when Angie walks up to him, "did they fit yeh, lass?" Angie nods her head silently and Oliver beams. "Excellent. Okay, let's find you some new shoes now, aye?" Angie's eyes widen in shock. Oliver not only plans to get her all of these clothes, but also shoes? Oliver chuckles when he sees the shocked look on Angie's face. "Surely you didn't think yeh could wear the same shoes forever, now did yeh?" Angie just continues to stare at him in shock. "C'mon, after we get yeh a few shoes, I'll let yeh pick out some underwear and socks." Angie just nods silently as she follows Oliver over the shoe section of the store.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries to the seven-year-old, she and Oliver left the store with Oliver carrying all the bags. About a mile away from the store, Oliver ducked into an alley and used his wand to shrink the bags and put them in his pocket, much to Angie's childish delight. Then, Oliver instructed Angie to take his hand and in an instant, they Apparated to another alley located just a few minutes away from Oliver's flat.

Wordlessly, Oliver walks to the grocery store with Angie's hand in his. When they walk into the grocery store, the store clerk, a rather fat man with dark green eyes, a brown and grey mustache, and balding light brown hair flecked with grey, smiles and greets Oliver, a regular customer of his. Angie nervously glances at the man as his physique vaguely reminds her of her abusive and not as friendly dad. Oliver guides Angie down various isles asking what she likes to eat. All of the different kinds of food, drinks, sections, and candies just make Angie extremely confused. Why would Oliver want her to pick out the food? Why hasn't he shouted at her yet? Is he trying to put her in sense of safety and comfort before he hurts her? Angie shakes her head; no, of course he isn't faking his kindness. He has done nothing but make sure Angie is fed, cleaned, taken care of, and…cared about. Angie refuses to call it 'love' because that is a strong word and she doesn't want to get her hopes up in case it turns out that Oliver is actually faking everything. Then again, why would he go to such great lengths for a joke? Why would he seem to care so much? Why show so much kindness? Angie shakes her head to clear it once more as the confusing questions start to make her head hurt.

"Angie? Are yeh alrigh' lass?" He asks in concern and Angie suddenly realizes that he has been talking to her this entire time. Angie, ashamed that she ignored him, just nods silently. Oliver frowns and opens his mouth, as if he wants to argue otherwise, but closes it again and drops the topic. "So, do yeh see anything yeh like?" Angie looks around the isle they are currently in and a very colorful box of fruit snacks catch her eye. On the box are various pictures of fruit snacks shaped in different cartoon characters. Oliver follows her gaze and smiles as he sees the box of Flintstone characters; he used to eat those all the time when he was her age, since one of his aunts was a Muggle. His aunt, when she visited his mom, would always bring a box of Flintsone fruit snacks for Oliver and his three older sisters.

They continue walking down various isles, Angie picking out different kinds of snacks and foods that caught her eye. Oliver realizes that there is more junk food than actual food and, slyly, he guides them over the produce and points out the different vegetables and fruits. Angie picks out several oranges, a bundle of bananas, a bushel of grapes, a bag of baby carrots, and a package of strawberries. Then, as if suddenly noticing Oliver's true intentions, grabs several items of junk food and puts them back, much to Oliver's shock. As far as junk food goes now, they have a large bag of miniature pretzel sticks, the same box of Flintstone fruit snacks, a box of fruit rollups, a box of Wild Berry pop tarts, one large bag of original wavy chips, and a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Next, Oliver leads Angie to the dairy section of the store and she picks out a large block of extra sharp cheddar cheese and a half-gallon of chocolate milk. When they reach the juice isle, Angie immediately picks out a jug of apple juice and a carton of fruit punch. Finally, when Angie seems to lose interest in the store, Oliver leads them to the front where he purchases all of the food.

Unknowing to Angie, throughout the entire store Oliver was carefully watching her body language. He noticed, much to his disappointment, that every time Angie would pick something and add it to the growing pile of food, she would look up at him in worry and fear as if expecting him to yell at her or hit her for getting something. Apparently, Angie still struggles to trust him even after all he has done for her. This fact only makes Oliver more determined to gain her complete trust, even if it may take several years for Angie to trust him fully. He also notices, as the clerk rings up their items, her fearfully and wearily watching the clerk's every move. He frowns as he wonders why, if she doesn't trust other people, she wasn't fearful of the women in the JC Penny's store. Is it because the sales associate was a woman and it was a man that abused her or is it more of the fact that something about the grocery clerk reminded her of her father? Oliver shakes his head and chalks her behavior up to her just being shy and, understandably, distrustful of male figures.

The clerk finishes ringing everything up and Oliver pays before they leave for his flat via walking. Although this area has more wizards than Muggles, Oliver still leads them into an alley before he shrinks the groceries and pockets them.

"Right," he starts as they leave the alleyway, taking his left fist and hitting his right palm, "we will put away the groceries and your new clothes and shoes before going to the police station." Angie's eyes widen in fear and she starts to hyperventilate as she realizes that Oliver plans to find her father and return her.

Has she done something to make him angry? If so, is that why he doesn't want her anymore? Angie scans her memories of the last two days in an attempt to find what she could have possibly done to upset him, but she comes up with nothing. Wait; is it that Angie wanted all of those things and he doesn't feel like spending his money anymore? If that were the case then she would gladly take the items and return them. Has he simply got tired of taking care of her? Why would he get tired of taking care of her, though? Is it because she hasn't talked for their entire shopping trip? Was she supposed to talk? Why didn't she talk more or why did she have to get so many things when Oliver has already done so much for her? Angie is on the verge of tears before Oliver speaks again.

"Merlin, don' cry, lass, I don't mean ter upset yeh! I'm sorry, it's just…what 'bout yer parents? I don' feel righ' takin' yeh from yer folks." Angie swallows her tears and answers him with very clear fear in her voice.

"Don't send me back to my dad! I'm sorry, I'll take everything back if I have to! I promise to talk more if it means you won't send me back to my dad!" Oliver stares in utter shock at Angie's outburst, and his mouth open and closes several times as if he's a fish. If Angie's absolutely terrified of her dad, and she doesn't trust males as much as females…what was it that Angie said earlier when he asked if she ever did accidental magic? _"…the school called my father…he wasn't very happy when he found out…" _Then, he remembers pulling out his wand to cast a stirring charm on the pot of spaghetti and pan of sauce and seeing her terrified gaze. Although he pretended that she wasn't there and he pretended to be startled by her presence earlier in the dining room, he actually knew she was there the entire time and he saw her eye his wand nervously. Oliver's heart nearly stops; _Merlin_, he thinks as he closes his eyes and places a hand over his heart, _was it her _father_ that did all that?_

"Yer fine lass," Oliver says in a very thick Scottish accent, "I'm not upset wit' ye; it's jus'…if you have parents then it's technically illegal fer meh ter keep yeh." Angie starts to cry and a couple people on the street shoot him withering glares; he ignores them. "If it upsets yeh that much lass, then I won' send yeh back to yer father but I still have ter check with the police," he says very soothingly and apologetically. Then, he picks Angie up and pulls her tight to his chest in an embrace and Angie grips the front of his cloak tightly as she continues to cry. Oliver sighs tiredly before he carries her back to his flat and sits down on the plushy couch. Eventually, her sobs die down to mere hiccups and Oliver shifts her until she is sitting in his lap with his strong arms wrapped around her. When Angie calms down completely, he carefully gathers her up in his arms and sits her down on the couch as he stands.

"Right, I'm just going ter put these things away and I'll be righ' back, okay lass?" The young girl wordlessly nods her head before Oliver sighs in relief and pulls the bags of groceries out of his pocket and returns them to their normal size. Then, with a nonverbal spell, he waves his wand and the various items of food go into their rightful places. Next, he pulls out the various bags of clothing and walks into Angie's room. He resizes the bags and flicks his wand where the clothes put themselves away in the drawer and the shoes stow themselves in the closet. Finally, he walks back into the living room where Angie instantly gets up from the couch and hugs him tightly. He weakly chuckles and hugs her back fiercely as he squats down and looks her in the eyes.

"Ready to go lass," Oliver asks kindly and searches her face for an answer or any other signs of distraught. Realizing that Oliver plans to take her to the police to find her parents, and there is no way to get out of it, Angie nods her head silently. Oliver nods once before he stands and holds out his hand. Angie takes his hand and the two of them Apparate to an alleyway in Whitehall, London. Oliver quietly instructs Angie to stick close to him as they walk down an abandoned road and into a telephone booth. Oliver turns the buttons and, to Angie's surprise, the booth shakes and starts to move down. As the road vanishes and the booth comes to a stop, the door opens and Angie walks out with Oliver.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Angie," Oliver says lightly. "Now, stay close to me and don't let go of me hand, aye? It wouldn't bode well to lose yeh in all this mess." Angie's grip on Oliver's hand tightens and they join the huge crowd walking down this magnificent polished stone hall. Several men and woman with cloaks and briefcases come out of the fireplaces in plumes of green flames. Each person seems to be self-absorbed and only a few will quip out a brief, "Hello," to each other before carrying on their way. As they reach a giant fountain in the middle of the vast room, Angie glances up at the high ceiling and sees a large picture of a black man in purple robes and a purple top hat. Under his picture are the words, "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minster of Magic". Angie continues looking around her in awe before Oliver gently leads her to an elevator. As they get on, a few more wizards and witches follow until Angie is uncomfortably crammed. Despite the tight quarters, Oliver continues to talk to Angie.

"It used to be anyone could Apparate into the Ministry of Magic, directly in the atrium, but after the second war…well, security is much stricter as there are still a few Death Eaters roaming around," Oliver says in very deep and very serious voice that Angie never heard before. The tone of voice he uses makea it clear that something terrible happened that he would rather not recount. So, instead of asking what the second war was and what Death Eaters are, Angie simply stays quiet and listens as he talks about brighter things. "There are all sorts of different departments in the Ministry and each department has a head, a sub-department, and different workers. Also, the different departments take care of different responsibilities; I'm not going to list them all, but the one we are currently going to is—," Oliver doesn't finish his explanation as the lift rattles to a halt and a cool woman's voice sounds through the golden speakers, "Level 5, Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Oliver grips Angie's hand slightly tighter as they leave the lift with a few workers while some people got on. Angie looks around her as she sees that this section is much less crowded than the atrium is and she suddenly feels insignificant in the large and spacious area. "Right," Oliver says and nods to himself in determination.

He leads Angie to the desk in the middle of the room with a rather bored looking witch scribbling something on a sheet of parchment. Oliver clears his throat when the witch has yet to notice them. Grudgingly, she looks up and spares a slight glare at the young girl. Angie shrinks back in fear and half steps behind Oliver's legs.

"May I help you, sir," she asks in a tone of voice that makes it seem that is the last thing she wants to do.

"Er, yes, I need to speak to the Head of the Auror Department." The woman with frizzy brown hair and dark brown eyes looks Oliver up and down as though sizing him up.

"First door on your left from the lift," she finally says before returning to her scribbling.

"Right," Oliver says, sounding slightly annoyed, "let's go." Angie lets Oliver gently lead her to the Auror office. Oliver walks in and heads straight for the secretary, who looks much friendlier and more helpful than the other woman does.

"May I help you, sir," she asks kindly. She has straight blond hair, light blue eyes, and a very friendly smile on her face. Angie doesn't feel as nervous as she did with the other woman.

"Yes, I would like to speak to the Head of the Department, Mr. Potter, please," Oliver says plainly and the woman nods before getting up from her desk. She opens a door just off to the right side of her desk.

"Mr. Potter," Angie hears the woman say with her head in the door, "someone is here to see you."

"Send them in," Mr. Potter says. Oliver smiles slightly and walks through the door. Angie watches as the wizard's mouth drops slightly, before turning into a smile. "Long time no see, Oliver," Mr. Potter says brightly as he gestures for Oliver to take a seat in front of his desk. Angie takes the seat beside Oliver.

"Same to you, Harry; congratulations on making head of department," Oliver says just as happily. Harry smiles brightly.

"Thanks, congratulations on making it as official Keeper for Puddlemere United. How is professional Quidditch going?" Oliver laughs lightly. Angie can tell that the two of them used to be good friends.

"Quite well, actually; I'm starting to see how you guys used to feel when I trained you ragged." Harry laughs at this. Then, he glances over to the girl curiously. "Right," Oliver starts, "this is Angie, Harry. Angie, this Harry; he used to play Seeker for Gryffindor when I was captain of the team at Hogwarts. From what I heard, he still played Seeker even after I left and became captain in his sixth year. Congratulations, by the way; I wish I had had the time to sit in on a few of your practices." Harry waves his hand dismissively at Oliver's comment.

"It's fine, I wasn't that great a captain, anyway, not like you were; I would have embarrassed you. I finally understood your determination to win the Cup and why you trained us so hard." Oliver grimaces slightly.

"Ah, it's not easy being Captain, aye?" Harry nods grimly before turning his attention to Angie.

"So, Angie," he starts lightly, "what's your last name?" Angie fidgets slightly in her seat. Harry gives off a friendly vibe, but she's still weary of him.

"Allison, sir," Angie whispers nervously.

"What was it that you needed, Oliver," he asks turning his attention to Oliver.

"Well, I needed to know who her parents are, if she has any. She mentioned having a father, but I have reason to suspect that he is abusive," Oliver states seriously. Harry nods his head and shuffles some pieces of parchment on his desk.

"Right, well, I have a few questions to ask you, Angie," Harry addresses the girl seriously, "First, do you have parents?" Angie nods quietly.

"Mum's dead, dad's alive," she says quietly. Harry scribbles something on a clean sheet of parchment.

"At any time did your father hurt you in anyway?" Angie shrinks down in her seat.

"Yes, all the time; he'd…he'd use some kind of curse on me that sounded like 'Curicio'. He'd sometimes hit me with his hands or kick my ribs with his boots, or he'd call me awful names and tell me I'm worthless or that no one could love me and that I killed mum…" Angie quietly explains, almost in tears. Harry has deep sympathy in his eyes and Oliver struggles to control his rage; so, her own father abused her, eh? What father would do that to his child?

"Was he your biological father, guardian, or adoptive father?"

"Biological father," Angie says shortly as she watches Harry scribble some more things down on parchment.

"Right, how'd you come into contact with Oliver?" Angie looks anxiously up at Oliver before looking at Harry.

"I…I don't know…" Oliver speaks up.

"I was on my way back from a rough Quidditch practice and I heard what sounded like someone crying an alleyway. I went to investigate, and I found what looked like a pile of rags beside a dumpster. The pile of rags turned out to be a bloodied, bruised, and broken little girl. I tried to get some information out of her such as where her parents were and how old she was, but she wouldn't talk to me. I eventually offered her some food and she hesitantly took my offered hand. We Apparated to my flat, just on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, where I healed all of her injuries, fed her, bathed her, and took care of her. I couldn't just leave her in that alleyway in such a condition." Harry nods at the end of Oliver's story before he writes something on the parchment in front of him.

"Well, until we find a way to contact her father or any other relatives she may have, I will place her in your custody. If we find her father, we will investigate him to figure out if these allegations are true. If they are, and we find no other relatives, then I will send someone from this office to see if you are able to take care of a child. If you are, then I will grant you full custody. If not, then I will have to find her someone else to live with. I will owl you personally to tell you where we are in our investigation, as well. Also, I advise you to take her to your practices if you have no one that can watch her while you are gone." Oliver nods at this and Angie does not dare smile.

"Thank you, Harry, I appreciate it." Harry simply nods before he dismisses the two and Oliver leads Angie out of the Ministry of Magic. Angie happily walks beside Oliver glad that, for now at least, she will not have to go to back to her dad.

* * *

**A/N: Wow! That was probably my longest chapter yet! I hope I wrote the shopping scenes out okay and they weren't boring to read. I can assure you that this is not a filler chapter; it's quite important to the plot, including getting the clothes and food. I didn't plan on Oliver going to the actual Ministry of Magic nor did I plan on Harry making an appearance, but it just sort of happened (I blame the plot bunnies). I hope this ending isn't forced and this chapter is much better and more satisfying than my last.**

**If you are wondering, yes, Harry will play a significant part in the story, but just as the person who leads the investigation on Angie's father. Once everything pans out and if Oliver is granted full custody, Harry will no longer play a significant role; this story is Oliver-centric, after all! :D I have plans to carry this story all the way to Angie's first year of Hogwarts, so this story is far from over. Also, there will be time skips in later chapter, but I will always inform you so you don't have to guess. For right now, Angie is seven and it is the year 2008. :D**

**On that note, what did you like about the story? Is there something I can improve on? Is there something you would like to see happen? Would you like to see more hurt/comfort moments between Oliver and Angie? What do you think of the story so far? Is my Scottish accent for Oliver okay? Leave your thoughts in a review and I will make sure to reply. ;)**

**Happy Reading,**

**ferret nin**


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